


Runaway Run

by themayqueen



Category: Hanson (Band)
Genre: Amnesia, Childhood Trauma, Depression, Desert, F/M, Mental Health Issues, Past Abuse, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Running Away, Sarcasm, Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2001-02-22
Updated: 2010-04-09
Packaged: 2019-02-17 06:55:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13071498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themayqueen/pseuds/themayqueen
Summary: The Hanson boys are in for a bit more than they bargained for when Taylor decides to pick up a hitchhiker at a truck stop.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is permanently unfinished. I rewrote the first chapter for the spring 2010 round of [The Spark Inside](http://spark.placetohide.net) and toyed with the idea of restarting the fic under the title Puzzle Pieces. I didn't do that, however, so what you see here (chapter one, chapter two and rewritten chapter one) are all that will ever exist.

Yuck. Because my ingenious idea of running away from home, I was stuck standing on the side of the road, collecting the sand being blown around in the wind. Hitchhiking. So I have to ask myself, when I planned this whole thing, why didn't I consider the fact that I had no means of transportation? 

You would be surprised how much sitting on the side of a road in the middle of nowhere makes you think. Think about the family you aren't sad to have left behind, think about the alcoholism and abusive boyfriend that you will never miss. And think about how it's not a good idea to make important life decisions after having three drinks. Especially when one of those decisions is running away from home. 

A thick cloud of dust interupted my thoughts and clogged my lungs. I heard the whirr of an engine and stood up, my thumb in the air. I prayed that the approaching car didn't belong to a serial killer that preyed on young hitchhiking girls. 

I'm still not sure if what I actually saw was better or worse than what I had imagined. But there in front of me was an old, dirty tour bus that looked like it could have easily been home to some 1970's rock group for a few months. I stepped back almost out of fear.

The door opened and out stepped a man. He was a beautiful man. But I didn't see that. I didn't want to see and I didn't want to feel. So I didn't let myself. 

"Do you want a ride?" His voice was so wonderful, he almost seemed to be singing each word.

I turned away from him, "No!"

I didn't need look to know that he had jumped back, probably surprised at my outburst. I couldn't blame him; I had shocked even myself.

I could hear the shuffle of his feet kicking up sand as he spoke, "I just thought, you know, that you looked like you were hitchhiking. If you weren't, which seems pretty unlikely, you really should step back from the road a little bit. And maybe not stick your thumb out so much."

Sarcasm. Or was it? I couldn't tell. But I figured he wouldn't shut up unless I agreed to let him drive me around.

"Fine. You can give me a ride. But be quiet, okay? I have a headache already."

He made a dramatic turn and pointed towards the bus's door. _Great. I'm riding with a gay man. Well, at least he won't hit on me._

When I stepped onto the bus, I was a little surprised. Two other men, who beared striking resemblance to first, were sitting inside. One was fussing with a map and the other was sitting in the driver's seat, looking more than a little nervous at the prospect of driving such a large automobile.

'Guys, this is....um...er....the girl from beside the road." 

"Isobel."

"Yeah, Isobel. Nice name, by the way. Isobel, this is Zac and Isaac. I'm Taylor."

The names seemed familiar, but I couldn't remember why. I took closer look at them, hoping to jog my memory. The one named Taylor was very tall, at least from my 5'2" view, had crystal blue and dirty blond hair, in more than one way. It looked like it hadn't been washed in weeks. In fact, none of the three seemed too clean. The one driving, that Taylor had called Zac, had greasy blond hair, down just below his shoulders. _Strange._ He also wore an eyebrow ring over his chocolate colored eyes. The confused map boy, Isaac, had the darkest hair of the group, a sort of light brown color, and hazel like eyes. The more I looked, the more I wished I could remember where I had seen them before.

"So where are we going anyway?" Zac asked. 

Isaac groaned, "You're driving and you don't know where we're going?"

"Well, I was just thinking -"

"- You, thinking?" Taylor interupted. I stifled a giggle.

"Yes! Anyway, I was thinking that maybe Isobel had some particular place where she wanted to go." Zac nearly growled.

I wanted to tell them anywhere but home. Anywhere away from the pain I felt everyday. Anywhere I wouldn't have to cry myself asleep. But the only words I could find were, "Oh, nowhere special. I'm just traveling."

"Why?" There went Taylor's mouth. I was getting the feeling that he was the type that could never be quiet. My least favorite type of people. I much prefer thinking to talking.

I didn't answer. I just sat down near a window and tried to take in as much of the desert-like scenery as possible. It wasn't easy considering the speed Zac was driving at. I wondered exactly how long it had been since he got a liscense. Whether he actually had one was questionable.

I sat there for a while in silence before deciding to ask the question that had been burning a whole in the back of my mind.

"So what do you guys do, just drive around in a bus, looking for hitchhikers?"

Isaac looked up from his map, "Well actually, we're a band. We're running a little low on money so we have been forced to drive the bus ourselves."

Zac piped up, "Yeah, we're trying to make our big comeback, for the what? Third time? But you what they say, 'third times' a charm', right?"

A few faint piano chords started to play in my mind, but I couldn't place them. A sudden turn knocked all thoughts out of my head. I realized we had stopped at a gas station. Everyone filed out, and Zac went around to pump some gas into the bus. Taylor was the last one off, right behind me.

"You never did answer my question. Why are you hitchhiking?" he asked.

I still didn't answer. Instead, I walked inside to get the key for the bathroom. 

I locked the bathroom door behind me and sank to the floor. I hadn't even been traveling for a full day and yet I was already exhausted. I didn't want to go home, but I didn't want to go on. After a few minutes had passed, I cracked the door and peered outside. _Good. They're gone._

I stepped back outside and took a breath of fresh, Arizona air. Which was really more sand than air, but felt good inside my nicotine polluted lungs anyway. 

Looking around, I found myself in a small town. You know the type. Little more than a gas station, family owned resturant and motel. This was going to be some adventure.


	2. Chapter 2

I walked into the diner and sat down. A hefty waitress shuffled over and placed a menu in front of me.

"What can I do you for?" she asked. I cringed, reminded too much of the diner scenes in those old cable movies.

I didn't bother to open the menu. "Just a cup of coffee. Black."

"Is that all?"

"Yeah, I had something to eat a few miles back." 

She picked up the menu and stuffed it in her side pocket. "Traveling?"

"Yeah."

"Where to?"

"Anywhere I can get to."

She didn't say anything else, just walked away to fetch my coffee. I pulled a cigarette out of my bag and lit it. I closed my eyes and savored the taste. It had been too long since I last smoked. 

I was jarred out of my thoughts when the waitress sat my coffee down and began to talk again.

"Just traveling, huh? That's how I ended up here." I shuddered at the thought of having that destiny. I knew I had to leave the small town soon. 

"Say, you haven't heard about any concerts near here, have you?"

The waitress, who's name tag read Helga, thought for a second and finally replied, "Seems I've heard something of a band doing some sort of concert about an hour or two north of here, in Phoenix. Reckon it's some big group. Handsome, or something like that."

Helga stuffed the menu in her back pocket and walked away. I sipped my coffee in silence, thinking about what she had said. The faint piano chords I had heard in mind earlier came back.

Throwing a wad of bills on the table, I stormed out of the diner, determined to make it to Phoenix. Why I wanted to seem them again, I couldn't say. It was as if something was pulling me towards them, towards the music and away from the heartache of home. Whatever it was, I followed it.

*

It had never been my style to think things completely through, which is why I found myself standing outside of a small arena, listening to the sounds of the crowd seep out of the thin walls. I'm not sure what I wanted, why I needed to see them again, but I knew I did.

The screams from inside the building grew and I could hear the first few notes of the song I had been hearing in my mind all day. Then a voice joined the piano, and I remembered. 

_It's getting colder in this ditch where I lie_  
I'm feeling older and I'm wondering why  
I heard they told her it was tell and live or die  
I didn't know her but I know why she lied  
I didn't know her but I know why she died 

How long had it been? Three, maybe four years? But the memories came pouring back like it had been only yesturday. I had been happy then. I had no reason to cry. But like a song, happiness ends. 

I was young and didn't know love, aside from what I heard in the music. Then I lost that innocence. I fell in love. At least it seemed like love at the time. When I realized it wasn't, it was too late to get out. I had lost myself forever. 

I stood near the side door of the arena reminiscing about my childhood and other happy things until the sudden opening of the door jarred me back to the present. 

I stood alert, prepared to run if the intruder was a security guard, checking for stray fans. But it was only Taylor. 

"What are you doing here? I thought we lost you." Taylor asked, leaning against the building, obviously trying to look cocky, but failing miserably.

I smirked, "I'm hard to get rid of."

Taylor stared down at his shoes for what seemed like an eternity.

"So why did you come back?"

Taylor looked up at me. He had a way of staring straight into your eyes that made you forget everything. But somehow I managed to say, "I had to. Something was pulling me back. I just......thank you for the music. That's all."

The expression on his face turned from idle curiosity to confusion. "Your welcome. But what's so special about the music? It's just words, just our feelings and few instruments."

I attempted to imitate his soul stiring stare when I answered, "It's more. It's all I remember about my childhood, about being happy. I know those years were good, but all I remember is the music. I think I'll leave now."

I turned to walk away, but felt a firm grip on my arm, pulling me back. Whether from the cold night air or the memory of other times my arm had been grabbed so roughly, I shuddered and struggled to get away. I couldn't bare to be near him. So I did the first thing I knew to do. I ran. Ran like I ran from all my other problems. Any words Taylor might have yelled at me were lost in the night.


	3. Chapter One Rewrite

The harsh desert wind nipped at Isobel’s face, stinging her eyes. She sat down on top of her suitcase, taking the opportunity to rest her legs a little. She had been sitting outside this particular gas station for nearly an hour, ever since her last ride had decided to leave her in the bathroom while he pumped his big tacky SUV full of gas and drove off. He was probably the kind of asshole who complained about the price of gas while knowingly driving the biggest tank of a vehicle his money could buy, Isobel thought to herself.

She would have preferred to sit inside the gas station at one of the slot machines by the door, but the workers had started to give her funny looks. She probably deserved the looks, she decided. It had been two days since she hit the road now, and she was probably starting to smell. More than that, Isobel was fairly certain she looked just as bad as she smelled.

But she was patient.

She was perfectly content to sit out in the heat, thumb extended toward the road, as long as it took for someone to finally take the hint and stop their car.

Each new car that pulled into the parking lot caught her attention, in the hopes that it might be the one. Isobel watched with mild fascination as a long, glimmering tour bus pulled into the far end of the parking lot. Within a few minutes, two boys exited the bus and walked into the store. They looked just as ragged and worn out as Isobel felt, and she thought that was odd. Maybe they were the crew for some famous pop star who sat barricaded in her fancy bus.

Thinking about how nice it must be to have so much fame and money, Isobel picked up a rock and began idly drawing designs in the sand by her feet. None of the designs really meant anything, but it was a nice way to occupy her mind while she waited for some kind, gentle soul to take pity and open their car to her.

Suddenly, a shadow descended over her, momentarily blocking out the blinding sunlight. Shading her eyes with her hand, she looked up. What she saw in front her was a man, maybe about her age, with blond hair that practically glittered in the light. He wore a large pair of sunglasses so Isobel could not be sure about his emotions as he looked down at her.

“Are you hitchhiking?” The man asked, with a voice more feminine than Isobel expected, and an accent she couldn’t quite place.

“No, I just like to sit beside the road with everything I own and watch traffic go by,” she replied, glancing back down and picking at the dirt caked under her fingernails.

The man shuffled his feet, then replied, “Well, if you’re not hitchhiking, then I’m not offering you a ride.”

“Good to know,” Isobel replied, then turned her attention back to the designs she had created, which were now crushed under the stranger’s boots. They looked expensive, she thought, and weren’t covered with as much dirt and grim as you’d expect of cowboy boots.

“Alright then. Glad that’s settled,” the stranger replied, then turned to walk away.

Isobel watched his retreating figure, a bit amused by the odd exchange. When he had put several yards between them, she finally resolved herself and stood up. She turned her suitcase upright and tugged it behind her.

“Wait!” She called out, not able to think of anything more clever.

The man turned around slowly, with an obvious confidence. The smile on his face told Isobel that he had anticipated her response exactly, and she already resented him for it. He motioned wordlessly for her to follow him, then turned on his heel again and continued across the parking lot.

Isobel yanked on her suitcase, trying to keep up with the stranger’s pace. His long legs, combined with the head start he had, put quite a bit of distance between them. She tried to guess which car he might be heading for, but could not tell. The convertible by the gas pumps looked a bit too flashy for him. Perhaps it was the rusty Volkswagen parked by the door. But no; each time she made a new guess he walked on by it. He seemed to be leading her out of the parking lot entirely. The only vehicle left was –

 _No,_ Isobel thought to herself. _It can’t be._

Just in front of the tour bus door, the tall stranger paused and looked back at Isobel with a smile. She stopped in her tracks and stared at him, waiting for some sort of explanation.

“It’s roomy enough, I suppose,” he said, smiling. Isobel could not tell if it was meant to be a joke or sincere.

“You’re picking up a hitchhiker in that? Really?” Isobel asked, tilting her head to the side a little.

He shrugged. “Why not?”

“You didn’t even ask my name or where I’m going,” she said, pointedly not answering his question. She didn’t have an answer anyway, except that it just seemed very odd.

He crossed his arms, seeming to take this as a challenge. “Okay, then. What’s your name and where are you going?”

“Isobel. And as far as I can. Maybe Needles, to start with. Then I’ll figure it out from there,” she replied, crossing her arms to mimic him.

“I think we’re going through there, so it all works out,” he replied with a broad, genuine smile, then swung the door open and motioned Isobel to board.

“I’m Taylor, by the way,” he spoke as she stepped around him and onto the bus.

Lugging her suitcase up the steps, Isobel decided that perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad. She turned around to speak to the stranger, evidently named Taylor, but he had disappeared. She looked out the large windshield of the bus and saw him striding back toward the gas station. There didn’t seem to be anyone else on board the bus, so she figured it was safe to do a little exploring. She pushed her suitcase off to the side and glanced around.

The bus was, plainly put, a mess.

All manner of video games, books and trash were littered around the built-in chairs. An acoustic guitar lay haphazardly on top of a pile of magazines and papers. Opening the small fridge, she found an assortment of sodas, beer and junk food. Isobel hadn’t paid any great attention to who had disembarked from the bus, aside from the first two boys she had seen, but now she was certain that its inhabitants were all boys.

Isobel slipped past a curtain that served to create another room, as it were. In this area, she found a couple rows of bunk beds. Another curtain at the end of this section created a lounge area, full of couches and more of the requisite mess. A few more guitars, a keyboard and several video game consoles littered this room. She found herself poking around the mess, trying to figure out just what sort of people she would be spending the next few hours of her life with.

“Where the hell did this suitcase come from?” a muffled voice cried out, seeming to come from the front of the bus. Instinctively, Isobel pulled the curtain closed, but pressed her body against the wall next to it, carefully peering out, to see who had spoken.

A young man with messy hair and a general disheveled appearance stood in front of her suitcase, pointing at it accusingly. More men, including Taylor, were gathered around him. The way they were huddled around kept her from being able to tell much about them.

“The hitchhiker I picked up?” came Taylor’s sheepish reply.

“The _what_?” another voice screeched.

“Look, it’s just for a little while. Just to Needles, maybe not even that far. What was I supposed to do, Ike? No one else was gonna pick her up,” Taylor replied.

“That’s because no one who wants to live picks up hitchhikers, Tay. Jesus, how stupid are you?” the second unidentified voice replied. Isobel thought it was coming from the one with a mohawk, but she couldn’t say for certain.

“Well, is she at least hot?” the first boy asked.

“Zac!” Taylor exclaimed.

“What? I’m just saying, why else would you pick up some girl hitchhiker?” the one named Zac asked.

The second stranger, apparently named Ike, replied, “Because he’s a fucking idiot, obviously. He’s gonna get us all killed.”

“Look, guys. It’s gonna be fine. We’re just a few hours from Needles, and she didn’t seem like she _had_ to go there anyway. If she turns out to be super sketchy, we’ll drop her off sooner,” Taylor said, his voice practically pleading.

“Fine, whatever. But if she is sketchy, you better remember this was your idea,” Ike replied with a sigh. He might have said more, but the roar of the bus’s engine coming to life drowned it out.

Isobel’s head was spinning. She collapsed onto the nearest couch, the conversation she had just overhead replaying in her mind. Did they even realize she could hear every word? She had to admit, the one named Ike had a point. She had been lucky to find so many trusting people, to get her so far from Las Vegas already. Nevertheless, she resented the fact that he would imply anything about her mental state. He didn’t even know her.

Those three names – Ike, Taylor, Zac – replayed in her mind more than what they had said. Something seemed familiar about them, but she couldn’t clear the fuzz in her mind to figure out what it was. She shut her eyes tight and tried to focus, but there were so many blank spots and static filling her memories. Isobel wondered if there had been a time when those spots were filled with substance, but she couldn’t say for sure.

She nearly jumped off the couch at the sound of the curtain being yanked back. Blinking a few times to clear her mind again, she looked up to see the one called Zac standing in front of her, an obvious frown on his face.

“I guess you’re the stray we picked up?” he asked, then plopped down on the couch opposite her and turned on a video game, not waiting for or even seeming to care about her response.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” she replied, trying to relax. She leaned her head back against the couch and tried to ignore the blaring music and sound effects coming from his video game.

“Make yourself at home, then,” he said, not even glancing away from the television screen. “We’ve got plenty of food, if you’re hungry or whatever.”

“Right,” she replied, unimpressed by his feeble attempt at hospitality.

Tossing his controller down, Zac looked over at Isobel with his brows furrowed and a deep frown across his face. “Look, I don’t know why Taylor thought it was a good idea to pick you up. But don’t get any ideas about it, alright? He’s married. And I don’t care what anyone says, he wouldn’t cheat on Natalie.”

That said, he turned back to his game and ignored her. Isobel felt like the puzzle pieces in her mind were starting to fit together, but she still could not quite make out the picture. It frustrated her to be so close to figuring it all out, yet still have the answer just out of her reach.

She stood and stumbled out of the room, not sure what she was looking for. It wasn’t like she could escape, much as she felt the need to get out. The bus lurched into motion and the feeling added to her dizziness. In her confusion, Isobel did not even notice the figure coming toward her until she collided with him.

She looked up and saw Taylor staring at her with amusement.

“Whoa, where ya going? We’re hitting the road. It’s too late to get off the ride now,” he said, chuckling softly.

She stared at him for a moment, tilting her head to the side. Again, she could feel the puzzle pieces trying to align, but the gaps in her memory were still far too large for the picture to make sense.

Realizing that he was still waiting for a response, Isobel stuttered out, “I was just – nothing. Nothing. Just needed to stretch my legs.”

“Well, I suppose you can pace the bus, if you’re desperate,” Taylor replied. With that, he squeezed by Isobel and began to rummage through a cabinet over the refrigerator, his attention fully devoted to that task, as though Isobel were not still standing two feet away.

Isobel watched him with intensity as he went about his search. The boy’s face was beginning to take on a strange familiarity, much more than someone she had just met ought to have. The laugh lines around his clear blue eyes, the way he stood with such confidence and poise… yes, she must have known him once. But she could not say when or where.


End file.
